


Perhaps I am foolish

by CaseOfDilemmas



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Book 3: The Queen of Nothing, Brooding, Canon Continuation, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Idk what i'm doing, Jealous Cardan Greenbiar, Jealousy, Knives, Mutual Pining, POV Cardan Greenbriar, POV Jude Duarte, POV Third Person, Pining Cardan Greenbriar, Post-Book 2: The Wicked King, Soft Cardan Greenbriar, Spoiler: Locke will die, Spoilers for Book 2: The Wicked King, Spoilers for Book 3: The Queen of Nothing, Spying, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, The Author Regrets Everything, mainly Cardan POV, set after TWK
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29718819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseOfDilemmas/pseuds/CaseOfDilemmas
Summary: Everything was how it should be - a sense of normality restored if you will. If she wanted to be in the mortal world, Cardan would try to respect her wishes, but of course, that didn't that stop the subtle flash of emotions every time something reminds him of her. The High Queen of Elfhame was exiled, but instead of it being her punishment, a trick they'd bicker about later, why was it slowly consuming him?
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a fic I randomly decided to write just a few days ago lmao~ I recently read the Folk of Air trilogy and loved it, so I decided to write this. It’s mostly set from Cardan’s POV and is a continuation after TWK, with a mix of divergence/inspiration from canon. 
> 
> This is un-betaed, so if you see any glaring mistakes please feel free to comment them, along with any constructive criticism also.
> 
> thank you for reading!

"Of course, your majesty, I forgot what interest starring at a wall brings to you," The Roach said with a smirk encroaching at the corner of his mouth, idly standing at the edge of The High King's sleeping chamber.

Cardan pulled his attention to the goblin after a moment, noting his green skin, somewhat covered in scars from his 'adventures' over the years - a benefit of their court he was surely accustomed to by now. 

A subtle sigh filled the silence between them, one eyebrow raised as these comments were an oddity he rarely experienced anymore. Since he was the king, he was either treated with respect or the complete opposite.

Especially, since Jude's departure, no-one pushed the line as she had.

Directing anything to do with her to the back of his mind, where anything particularly tormenting was contained, he raised from his seat and passively ran a single hand through his hair. Yet, another revel awaited. 

"Ah. This may be an utterly outlandish concept to a spy, but I was simply considering what would be taking place. I suppose patience isn't a virtue you possess." An almost sarcastic tone infiltrated his collected composure, before he began walking, leaving the Roach not a single moment to respond.

From then on, their conversation evaporated to nothing but the slightly aggrieved facial expression the Roach wore, and they made their way to the event. Cardan realised from, nothing more than the repetition in his life, that the spy (or rather guard?) would follow and indeed he did. 

Upon his arrival, everyone shifted to take a glance at him, as if he was a painting on the wall. The attention was meaningless after experiencing it so frequently, but it was hard to forget a younger version of himself who would have had a wicked grin at the many people being enchanted by his entrance. 

This surely included the few on the Living Council, who attempted to talk with the King about all sorts of concepts and ideas. Most likely to convince him to play a game for their benefit and act as if they wanted to be the newest saviour of Elfhame in the same process.

He recognised it instantly, he wasn't a fool - perhaps foolish as he had established before, but not quite a fool yet. 

After a moment, he escaped their grasp and walked through the crowds to reach his throne, beckoning someone to claim a glass of wine for himself. He certainly couldn't last without that intoxicating touch of alcohol swirling around his body. It felt that it was the only thing, or rather substance, that allowed him to continue. 

Once his lips were connected to the chalice, he allowed himself to look around the room to comprehend who the attendants were. 

To his luck, it wasn't anyone he hadn't expected and it seemed to be running as smoothly as these things ever did. The minutes prolonged as time went on and Cardan dived into a trance of forgetting his surroundings, a bland expression coating his face. Yet, when Locke came into his view, his emotions felt as if they'd controlled him - a puppet to them, connected by flimsy strings. Taryn attached to his hands began to almost.. just almost look like Jude.

Her body was thinner, the curve of her arms that his queen had were not comparable to the delicate women Locke was embracing, or rather dancing with, but they were obvious similarities he couldn't ignore.

The pit in his stomach that usually anger lingered within, was overturned with a nauseating taste of jealousy. Whether that was derived from the obnoxious plans the Master of Revels had conducted; or that Jude had permitted him to kiss her all those months ago; or even for the fact, their relationship had seemed relatively stable, whilst the High King and _exiled_ Queen of Elfhame weren't even in the same kingdom - he didn't know. 

Locke, as if somehow realising every single one of Cardan's innermost thoughts, smirked in his direction, before moving his attention to Taryn's lips. The kiss was nothing of the haste variety he'd often saw them indulge in, but rather a long, intimate one that was nothing if not passionate.

The shock washed against Taryn’s face in an entirely different manner of which would have on Jude’s. She seemed to delight in the attention the man was giving her, whereas Cardan suspected Jude, in this type of situation, would have turned in a different direction, a blade on the edge of her suitor’s neck. 

He’d almost make a vow that after the number of women that lingered around Loche, anyone who treated her like such, would have received her familiar wrath. 

As Cardan refused Loche the pleasure of seeing his reaction, he flickered his eyes away from them and closed them for a second, to calm his beating heart down.

He wasn't trying to keep whatever connection he and his Queen had shared, but alas he couldn't seem to part with it quite yet. Nothing had rarely bothered him so consistently, but throughout the last weeks, he'd often been plagued with her face in his dreams, in his thoughts, occasionally in conversation, but worse within the shallow depths of his nightmares. 

When he'd be consumed by notions of her dying in the Undersea and he'd failed to save her or even more peculiarly, her lips locked with Loche - despite their clear dislike of each other.

Although, the traitorous voice in the back of his head wondered what was the difference between the two men? They'd both tortured her over the course of their intertwined history. Cardan drifted back to that time he'd pulled her into the small room when she'd been insistent of him charming Nicasia, but ended up declaring how she'd felt towards him.

The line that had entice him to close any space between them _' I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else'_ , which he'd often, despite not exactly wanting to, questioned the truth behind it. That'd been the first time he'd realised he couldn't say he hated her outrightly anymore. Though Faerie's half-truths were useful, the extent of what he could say was 'I hate how I feel about you, I hate how I seem to lack any sense of reason around you, I hate that you hate me.' 

The conflict growing within his mind and the wine encouraging such thoughts soon began to wreak havoc on his energy levels and Cardan desired nothing more than to escape from Revel. 

Trying to find eye contact from any of those who would protect him, he nodded to the Bomb, before departing from his throne - something he had begrudgingly began to do since Jude was no longer around to violently prevent his downfall. Dying wasn't something he was striving for at this exact moment in time.

His only wish was to be wrapped in the confines of his silk sheets and drown in nothingness. 

Trying to achieve that desire, once he reached his room again, he pulled every article of clothing of his body, except the trousers, before climbing into his bed. Cardan scoffed into the darkness of his room as he ridiculed himself for how far he'd fallen. Once upon a time, he'd been the one in the company of countless courtiers and laughing dryly with members of the palace, not seeking refuge far away from the thrill of the party.

A part of him knew he had to accept her absence, another couldn't for the life of him determine why it mattered so much, but the annoyance of those facts infected him wholeheartedly. 

What he said must have been stupidly easy to understand for someone like Jude who analysed absolutely everything. _'Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown'_ was painstakingly obvious - she was the crown, she was the Queen, she was his equal. So, it only left the conclusion that she didn't want to be around him. That was it, that was all he had to consider. Nonetheless, as his black lashes pulled his eyes shut, he needed to try again, but the letters he'd sent before had received no response.

What was the harm of sending just one more? 

Not finding a convincing argument, or rather not searching for one, he moved towards the desk on the other side of his abode and reached for the quill. Writing a message several times, but starting over and over again, he sighed for what felt the millionth time tonight. This was hopeless. 

He starred for a moment at the empty page and contemplated, before shortly going with a message he presumed wasn't overly.. anything: 

_Jude,_

_You're in no mood for games, very well. Neither am I._

_Let me be concise: I pardon you, I revoke my word, I undo your exile. I wish for you to return - simply come back home. I assume it is causing you misery in the mortal world, though alas, perhaps less than I ever have._

_Just come back at home and scream and fight and use that sword of yours to petrify the High King. I'm simply urging you to be angry at me at a nearer distance._

__

__

_I hate that you've been ignoring me, I know I tricked you, but this? I hate it._

_Please, Jude._

_Cardan_

Debating upon the decision to send it became overly mind-bending, so without any further consideration, he sent one more of those things to her. Vowing to himself, that it'd be the last. With that small declaration, personifying a tiny fracture of himself, he collapsed again under the covers and gave in, to yet another night of restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was quite a bit of TWK I used in this and the letters from the end of TQON, but as I write more, it'll probably divert from the canon :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried formatting, instead of just like paragraphs, after completely forgetting with the first chapter and I edited that now too? hopefully it’s easier to read :)

His night had been haunted by dreams and nightmares and everything in between nearly the whole time. This was just one of the many reasons he felt like retrieving a weapon from somewhere, or demanding one from someone, to slice a blade through whatever creature had decided to awake him from his already disturbed slumber. 

The knocking on the door morphed into a pounding through his head, already soaked with the previous' day indulgence of wine and all the other beverages he could get his hands. 

He still allowed them to call his name for several minutes, variations of some stumbling fool saying: My King, The High King, The High King of Elfhame..? 

Although, when he began to grow weary of their idiocy, he rose from his bed - the sheets tangled in every other direction, whilst the trousers he wore, hanged loosely down the edge of his waist. 

If Cardan cared, perhaps he would have drawn them a few inches higher, yet he went to open the door with his typical air of nonchalance, covering all that hid beneath.

His face was ridiculously blank as the short boy before he prepared himself to speak, their cheeks faintly highlighted by a red glow. The King was certainly a sight for anyone less familiar with him: with his hair dishevelled atop his head, his chest unrestricted by any clothing and his eyes piercing in the direction of the one who had irritated him. 

"I'm sorry, your majesty, I mean- My Kin... My Elfhame... King of Elfhame.." He stuttered unbelievably so, until the Roach, situated just down the hall, decided to take mercy on him.

He grinned, enjoying the situation more then Cardan wished him to, judging by his gaze as the Roach spoke," I think.. this one is trying to say the Living Council requires your lovely presence, your majesty." 

To further prove his point, he mockingly bowed towards the King earning yet another glare. The boy nodded his head in response to the absurd situation and nearly sprinted from the chambers - towards the other list of responsibilities he had probably been faced with. 

"I have half a doubt to think you're mocking me Roach, but I suspect you wouldn’t wish the consequences of that upon yourself.” He spoke with a rough edge accompanying it, as the tiredness clawed through his body and ended in his tail - compared to its usual movement, it motionlessly swayed left to right. 

The Roach retracted the majority of his enthusiasm, despite the subtle gleam in his eye, before leaning against the wall in an attempt to pacify him using silence and alluding to the fact the King had somewhere to be - or rather people who demanded his ‘benevolent’ attention. 

“I presume you have some sort of task that you need to attend to?” Cardan replied dryly, his mind still reeling.

“My task as always, your highness, is guarding you and then graciously assisting you to the Living Council.” 

“Is that so?” Cardan questioned, embracing every word as he spoke them. 

“Well, we couldn’t have you harmed or tripping down one of the many staircases in the castle, could we now?” He said, with the patronising tone woven between each syllable; for someone who dedicated his life to service, he found himself enjoying these conversations far too often.

“I’m sure if I screamed loud enough, you’d come running.”

“If I heard you screaming, I’m not too sure whether I’d run to or away from you.” The Roach murmured, inwardly wondering if it was the right time to say an innuendo and continued nonetheless,” Your majesty, you should dress. The council will grow infuriated if you do not attend.” 

He raised his eyebrow pointedly as if to point out commanding the king was typically frowned upon, although he walked back into the threshold, without discussing it further. 

All he wanted to do was to get this over with. 

Deliberating his attire led him to the discovery of a somewhat simple top, with a low V-cut, and black trousers that loosely outlined the edge of legs, along with his other elaborate accessories, before noting his appearance in the mirror. 

His pale skin seemed to have transitioned to lighter shades over the last weeks, as the darkness simply became the shadows lingering around his body. 

Cardan wished himself to associate the person starring back at him with anyone else, the emptiness looming in his face was nothing if not a record of his failure. 

The excessively loud sigh, presumedly from the Roach's mouth, enticed him to tear his eyes away from his appearance to travel to wherever necessary. 

The council's voices plagued the hallway, as he made his way towards the meeting. The hell of whatever they'd be discussing would, of course, fall on his shoulders. 

Each and every one of them would debate with him, seek his advice, defy his order and anything else that struck them in their mood. 

Days similar to this one, were when he desired to scream curses in their faces, provoke their anger, for no reason other than company in his despair. 

The prospect of him being the King who was meant to know everything, solve all of their issues, was so utterly laughable. Perhaps he was too young for this responsibility, too immature and reckless; just how they all deemed him. 

Pushing yet another thought into the realm that contained all that terrified him, so it could return once he lost his battle to sleep, he entered whilst his face expression transformed to project the cruelty the situation needed. Their conversation dulled, a fire simmering before it carried on raging, as they raised to bow. 

Randalin, the first to dare to speak, smiled falsely," Your majesty, we were wondering if you'd arrive; it may have caused some of us distress if we had to decide about these matters without your presence here." 

Cardan sat at the head of the table, identifying the meaning behind his words, as was the proper Faerie way. 

He hadn't forgotten when this man had stolen his seat previously, to undermine his authority, alas the King could recognise the benefit to someone who had previously resented Madoc. 

One of the greatest motives, he was beginning to gather, was the need for vengeance and Randalin certainly seemed as if he would partake in the downfall of their, now, most prominent enemy. 

"The reason we required you here was one of the guards had identified Taryn, the mortal of all people, trying to intercept messages within our castle. Somehow, she'd snuck her way in and probably blinked her little eyes at a fool, desperate for attention, and nearly managed to get her filthy hands on our communication with one of the courts." Randalin continued.  


"This is what you deemed of importance? The mortal?"   


"Your highness, we consider this to be an attack on the castle, which means it's an attack upon the crown. Madoc may be-“

"Madoc may be what? Planning for the war? Oh, did the council not notice this? Indeed, you must feel like concentrating on the trivial matters in our kingdom instead of readying our armies is an intriguing way to combat them." Cardan sneered, his mouth curved into a line of harsh ridicule, interrupting one of the other members without a moment's thought.

"We have her in containment, it'd be an opportunity to glamour her to benefit us. Whatever can you be thinking to determine this irrelevant?" Randalin said, the fury of the King's response burning in his mouth, as he spat out every word.  


"A spy within their ranks could perhaps be useful, nevertheless, whilst informing me of a matter, would you not consider sharing the entirety of it? You must realise half of that information is useless to me." The King replied after consideration, staring idly at the wall - ignoring their wrath altogether. 

With that part of the discussion disturbing their ability to converse with success, another of the council began to talk, which in turn disinterested Cardan to the extent of disorienting from their endless debates. 

He drifted to the notion of whether Taryn would be a worthy resource for discovering the workings of their plans. As of late, no-one had been able to illustrate an understanding of Madoc's plans and this could be the start of an advantage. 

The only question that he left unsolved as if she'd be able to handle the extent of what they required. Being mortal, it allowed her the certain privilege of lying, albeit her lack of training for such a mission was disturbing. 

In spite of his determination to ignore her, Cardan begrudgingly found himself imagining the scenario if Jude was spying in place of her twin sister. Even he could admit her excellence in bringing to light the unknown and he easily recognised this task was far better suited to his Queen.   


"The mortal is being kept in the castle's dungeon, I presume?" He said, interrupting yet again, as a distraction for his wandering mind.  


"Of course, your highness. I see you have reconsidered the brilliance of my idea." Randalin proclaimed, his belief of triumph obvious.  


Only allowing him that satisfaction for the duration of departing from the chair, he stopped before the creature and gently caressed his sword," Remember who I am when speaking to me, Randalin, because otherwise, the consequences may not be pleasant." 

_________________________________________ 

Taryn had never, in her entire life, felt so pathetic. The bars beyond her eyes mocked her by simply being there and the embarrassment was a dose of lethal poison every time she recalled the events leading to where she was currently placed.

From Madoc screaming at her in one of his typical rages for being a useless hindrance, it somehow led to being caught by a guard within the confines of castle. She assumed her mortality and ability to lie would have made the excursion simple; an unhinged laugh escaped her chest as she realised how short-minded she'd been. How had she ever thought she'd succeeded in such an extravagance? 

Consumed in the situation, she hadn't even noticed the High King of Elfhame settle on a chair outside the cell. What he was doing couldn't quite be described as starring, because as of the last minute, his eyes had become practically immobile directed to the centre of her face. 

Icy hostility became so undeniably apparent it enticed her to wonder if an exhale would leave a trail of her breath, though alas, the game of who'd grow uncomfortable first, was enviably won by Cardan. 

This encounter so far was enough to send chills against her spine, which she seemed to want to disguise as anything other than the fear coating her body. 

"So, whose little idea was this? Was it your so-called father who deemed you brave enough to infect my castle?" He began, with his head resting on his hand absentmindedly.

"No.." Her voice hesitated as she tried again with little change," He didn't send me here."

Cardan remarked, with the cruelty he'd attached to his persona from their childhood, now appearing," The fine privilege you mortals have, from being granted the courtesy to lie. Are you, however, sure it's a smart idea to do so when I can glamour you?” 

Without giving her the opportunity to respond, he intertwined the magic to his voice and speaks," Enlighten me with the name of who sent you here mortal. Was it indeed your father or perhaps was it your husband who barely considers you anything apart from a tale?"

"I sent myself here," Taryn repeated. 

The magic still prominent, mixed with a humourless laugh, he questioned," Why would you invent such an absurd idea and partake in it?"

"I-I wanted to prove Madoc wrong.” 

“Don’t we all?” He muttered, as though she had any idea of how dearly he wished to do such a thing. 

Despite the start of his monarchy, and resenting the position he’d been thrown in, Cardan acknowledged over the last months the pleasure he’d feel if he defeated Madoc in whatever ludicrous action he took to take the kingdom from him. Which, is exactly what he planned to achieve with his following statement.

“Never mind your reasoning; I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m down in the dungeons with you, as my time is ever so valuable these days.” A bittersweet smile crept over his lips as he said coolly,” I’ve decided you’ll spy for me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if my characterisation is okay, but I hope it was somewhat enjoyable lmao. hope you’re having a good day/night!


	3. Chapter 3

"Spy?" 

The King watched the fear overtake her body, allowing the terror to crawl underneath her skin and the bloody possibilities she could face play out in her mind. Her lip quivered in an attempt to argue his command, but her words evaporated into the air surrounding them. 

Cardan took nothing less than delight from the vulnerabilities before him. The silence bringing her soul into his palms, and the ability to damage it in an indefinite number of ways. 

It was as if she was kneeling before him in weakness, her arsenal to retaliate was barely enough to strike a mouse. 

Her desperation for rescue, for any valiant hero to save the day, coaxed him forwards, whilst he deliberated how to proceed. What would make the girl, made from the most delicate china, shatter? 

His voice was soft, reminiscent of someone sweet-talking their lover," Would you not wish to risk your life for me? You're meant to adore the King, bend to my every whim." Cardan's hand played with the lock on the bars, running one finger against the metal. 

A simple representation of the barrier they carried between them. 

Her absence of words was an invitation for him to continue, the sick thrill of her suffering, allowed him to drag someone else under the depth of the waters he drowned in too. That familiar water his only companion, his only home. 

A home that convinced him gleefully that he was always a second away from taking his last breath. 

"Taryn? Care to share a response to your beloved King? Or is your submissive nature, a way of saving me from a likely tedious conversation?" Allowing the words to linger, he leaned his back carefully against the rim of the bar. 

"Indeed, that's a generous offer to allow me an escape from talking to a mortal unable to even do the simplest of tasks. The easiest act of thievery," Cardan continued, waiting for the blade of his words to make it's way to the centre of her. 

His behaviour was parallel to when he had to just deal with the task of playing prince and enduring the torturous stories Locke enwrapped people in. The memories were naively enticing all these years later. 

Alas, for some reason, he had begun allowing his conscious to guide him of all things.

Stuck in the predicaments of his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed the tears trailing down the side of Taryn's face and the murmuring noises slipping from her downturned lips. She was trying to hold herself together - that much was apparent.

Drawing his eyes from her torment, he gazed at the wall and allowed the seconds, to turn to minutes; to turn the girl, to nothing but what he needed of her. 

Instead of using his verbal horrors to intimidate her, Cardan suspected her imagination would suffice. Madoc, for all his faults, was an awful creature to gain as an enemy - especially, a mortal whose head is filled with the obscure notion of happily ever afters.

"I- I don't even know how to spy." She said, her voice stumbling over the words. 

"You didn't know how to steal and that didn't bother you." He replied emotionlessly, his focus drawn to the wall, scanning the fragile lines and cracks supporting the room before them. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You're sorry?" He laughed for a second, bare from anything remotely humorous and wondered if she even knew the meaning of the word. 

Inhaling deeply, in another try of weak perseverance, she spoke with what she presumed was a sense of authority, gathering any confidence," I can't spy for you Cardan, I just can't." 

"So, you can't? Or you won't? Or you don't know how? Make up your mind, in your own sweet time, thieving mortal." 

"I-" Indignance painted her features, as she recklessly tried another avenue," I'm not Jude, I can't do what she can do. She's gone."

Gaining his attention, his head turned as he heard the name of his wife from the mouth of her twin. 

The one who looked like her. Except, she wasn't her. Jude had left.

Left him. 

The mask of a King, the carelessness, the nonchalance, left as quickly as he'd ever placed them on. It shattered into the fabrics of what he wanted his narrative to be and left behind the scars. 

The smallest demonstration of what lurked beneath coming to play - the truth often a dangerous force. 

“Do you think I care for you? That I worry if you are caught that Madoc will feast upon you?” His voice was low, dangerously low, as he held eye contact with Taryn. 

She didn’t dignify him a response unless you considered her silent weeping, which only left the torture of reliving Jude leaving him.

Again. And Again. 

“You could die for all I care doing it. Some may even say, there is an irony of your murderous father wanting to destroy the daughter of whom he has already slaughtered their mother. Before your very eyes, if I’m not mistaken?” 

The last they’d been together, he’d condemned her of all she believed they had shared. Their last interaction filled with the echoes of his sickening laughter; its purpose to solidify his attempt to strengthen the relationship of those around him. 

“An orphaned girl trapped in the realm of monsters, trapped in a world quite like most mortals nightmares, but with dreams of falling for the perfect man and strong-arming your way into the favour of _my_ people. Yet, the man you’ve fallen upon is now falling out of your hands and my people see you as an equivalent to the dirt of which they walk on. What could you possibly have to lose?” 

The hurt had been intertwined with every detail of her body, instead of it being a separate entity, it had completely consumed her. Jude’s eyes had been begging for his saviour, begging for understanding, but he hadn’t indulged her in even the simplest of requests. 

He should have held her, felt her warmth intoxicate his senses. He should have kissed her, to wash away the horror she was experiencing. 

But he didn’t, because he couldn’t and in turn.. she went. Just like everyone else, she was gone.

“I’ll do it.” She whispered, so quiet, that without their utter silence, her statement would have been washed away into the air.

Cardan, without showing a single glimpse of recognition of what she’d agreed to, accompanied his voice with magic,” You will not, under any circumstances, tell another creature in Elfhame what I have instructed you to do or inform any creature in Elfhame that we have had this ‘conversation’ and within the next 6 days, I expect information.” 

A guard seemingly just knew that this was the exact time to drag her from the cell and within a blink of an eye, she’d left the confinement of the dungeon. 

Leaving Cardan there to just stare. Stare into the nothingness, the emptiness of his heart eating away, the abyss consuming him. 

The sadness had hidden among the anger had been there for longer then he wished to accept, nevertheless, the fatigue he carried, was one he’d always felt dragging his shoulders down throughout his lifetime. 

He despised it, more than anything, more than anyone else. 

Before he’d even acknowledged the action, his knees slid to the floor and his vulnerabilities began to overwhelm him. 

He gasped for air, desperately, as the droplets falling from his eyes splattered against his skin. The realisation she was never coming back to him clawing at everything within him. 

It was terrifying.

He’d never call her his queen, never bicker with her insanely.. even her knife’s blade would never connect with his throat again. 

She was gone.

She was gone.

She was never coming back for him.

And something, something belonging to the most twisted part of him, questioned,” Why would anyone ever come back to _you_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cardan: You left me
> 
> Jude: You FUCKING EXILED ME.
> 
> Cardan: *crying like the drama queen he is* My wife left me, everyone. My life has no meaning.
> 
> //
> 
> I have no idea what I’m writing at this point, but here is more of my rambling lmao and I hope you’re enjoying your day :)


End file.
